


won't you be my panacea

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Chronic Pain, House Being House, Intimacy, M/M, Massage, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 03:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22009171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: House has a bad flare-up, and Chase offers to massage his leg. This leads to more truth about their feelings for each other than either expected.
Relationships: Robert Chase/Greg House
Kudos: 129
Collections: Genprompt Bingo Round 17, Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 10, Prompt Table Challenge: Shippy Building





	won't you be my panacea

**Author's Note:**

> **hurt/comfort bingo:** chronic pain/illness + taking care of somebody  
>  **shippy building:** giving them a body massage  
>  **gen prompt bingo:** soft
> 
> title from _sweet bod_ by lemon demon, which is a bop.
> 
> enjoy!

"I don't need your help," House tells Chase as he walks into the locker room, a hand squeezing at his bad leg, trying his best to quell the pain away. This flare-up is one of the worst ones from recently, a throbbing, stabbing pain that makes him nauseous, the pit in his stomach growing and growing.

"Clearly you do," Chase says as he puts his bag down. "I can massage your leg, if you think that would help."

"You're not a hot masseuse," he deflects. "Or a hot hooker turned masseuse. So it's not going to do anything for me."

He sighs and rolls his eyes. "House. I'm just trying to help you."

"Chase," he says, with the same intonation. "I'm just trying to get you to fuck off."

"Well, you're not achieving that," he says. "Just let me help."

House doubts for a second. He really doesn't want to let Chase in any closer, lest they ruin their professional boss-employee relationship  _ and _ get Cuddy breathing down his throat. The mere thought makes him annoyed. But, on the other hand, a massage does sound quite nice.

He takes the bait. "Sure."

Chase slides down to his knees at the locker room with a practiced ease, hovering over House's bad leg. House pulls his hand off it and he immediately presses his fingers into the soft flesh, away from the scar, digging his nails into it, testing the grounds.

"You know, you don't have to give me a massage," he starts, glancing at how Chase looks quite comfortable on his knees. "With you on your knees—"

"Yes, I got it," Chase cuts him off. "If you plan to sleep with me, you can't pull the same strategy as you do with Cuddy. Sexual harassment will just get you yet another HR complaint." He doesn't leave, though, and the fact he doesn't deny the possibility of them sleeping together stays fresh on his mind. "Mind if you pull your pants down? It'll be better without cloth in the way."

House doubts for a second, sucks in a breath. "Sure." He unbuckles his belt and slowly pulls his pants down until they're at his ankles. He tries to ignore Chase's glance at his scar, the way his look softens considerably. He hates just how intimate this is, how his employee is massaging his injured leg without a care in the world.

"So," he starts, trying to get his mind off the funny feeling in his chest. "You  _ would _ sleep with me?"

"I'm not opposed to the idea," Chase says, tone as neutral as it can be during such a situation, starting to work at the muscles on House's leg. He lets out a quiet groan, tilting his head back as the pain slowly fades in and out of existence, how Chase's skilled hands work at making it all go away. His stomach clenches and he realizes that Chase is one of the first people to see his leg scar, apart from hookers.

It's oddly intimate. It makes him feel weird. Makes him feel  _ funny _ .

"I knew you weren't my lapdog just for the approval," he says with what tries to be a wicked grin, but transforms into yet another yelp of pain as Chase works through his muscles, his nerves, careful to not jostle him too much. "You just want me. That's cute, actually."

"I said I'm not opposed to the idea," Chase says, trying hard to sound detached as he massages House's leg, "not that I've been wanting to jump on your dick since forever."

"You don't have to— fuck— you don't have to lie to me, Robert."

Chase rolls his eyes. "If you keep making sexual advances I'll stop massaging your leg," he threatens.

House looks at him. He nearly says something sexual again, but then he contemplates going back to his godawful pain all because he wants to sleep with Chase, so he doesn't. "Fine. Let's talk about the weather instead."

Chase chuckles and keeps working at his leg, pressing against all the right spots, making sure to not touch the scar for the most part. Sometimes he brushes up against it, makes him go a little limp with nerves, to which Chase mumbles a hurried 'sorry' before going back at it.

"You know," House starts. "If someone walks into this, it'll be even harder to explain than walking in on us fucking."

Chase laughs. "You're right."

It's too intimate, really. Having sex with Chase, he could chalk it up to a thousand reasons, their sexual tension finally breaking, hate sex (or rather, annoyed sex), it being just a quickie. But a massage— well, that's a lot harder to explain. Too intimate, too…  _ soft _ , too sweet.

"Well, I could stay on my knees for you forever," Chase starts after what feels like years of him taking care of his leg, "but I'd reckon that we have stuff to do."

House wants to ask him to stay, to not pull away, to do something other than massage his leg and dance around the issue of what they are, or what they will be. "Sure."

Chase pulls away, and he gets up, pulls his pants back up, buckles his belt. He feels like Chase can see right through him, and it's not an emotion he welcomes. He scowls a little as he grabs his cane.

"Go like, find a case," House says. It's an attempt at ordering him, but it falls flat.

Chase gives him a grin, a shit-eating grin he's never quite seen before on his face, on his lips. It's a little dizzying.

"Of course, boss," he says, each word tinged with sarcasm.

As Chase leaves the locker room, he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

His leg doesn't hurt as badly now, but perhaps it is because he has a lot more things to worry about right now. Namely his feelings — the feelings he swore were just sexual — toward Chase. Of course feelings are ruining everything, it was all going so damn smoothly.

He limps out of the locker room, and if anyone notices him acting different, they don't say a thing.


End file.
